


Ordinary Day

by MapleleafCameo



Series: I'm Running Out of Words [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: After the Fall, M/M, Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you wake up after a long spell of sadness and grief, even an ordinary day can be beautiful. After the Fall. For the incomparable skyefullofstars. Johnlock/Established relationship</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordinary Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skyefullofstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyefullofstars/gifts).



> This one is for skyefullofstars. As usual I do not own any of this, but I wish I did:)

One day you wake up and it’s all right.

One day you wake up and you get out of bed and for some reason you are actually smiling.

You aren’t sure why, exactly.

Usually you get up and you try not to think of the one who is not there, who lay beside you, who whispered of love. One who embraced and held you.

You try not to thinking of heated touches and bliss and joy.

It always feels like betrayal to not think of them, to shove thoughts and images and triggers to the back of your mind so you can stumble through the day without sinking to your knees.

Because if you sink to your knees, you might lie down and never get up.

But today it’s seems to be okay.

What is special about this day?

Maybe it’s the display of sunlight dancing on the ceiling. It moves and shimmers and acts with the disposition of a child playing and you swear you can hear laughter.

Maybe it’s the sound of birds. At this time of the year, they can actually out sing the hum of London traffic. There is something quintessential, something uplifting about birds singing in the spring.

Maybe it’s the air; even with the pollution there is something that calls new life and growing things, even in the heart of this monster of a city.

For the first time in a long time.

For the first time since…

So you get up and you get dressed and you have breakfast. And for some reason the food is a little better. You are actually enjoying it.

You grab a jacket because even though the sun is shining and it’s spring, the wind is still cold and you never know exactly how long it will stay bright out.

You grab a jacket and go out and hail a cab.

You haven’t taken cabs for a long time but today it’s all right.

It’s all right.

‘Cause you have a smile on your face, and you have four walls around you. You have food on the table.

The sun is vivid and holds your face and you soak it in after the long winter of sorrow and frost.

You get out of the cab and go for a walk along the river. And you think for the first time in an eternity of remembered nights running along the river, always following and chasing over rooftops, but today it’s not painful.

Just missed.

Like a lost limb or the other half of your soul.

The air tosses and teases the flags and the loose papers; the neglected, orphaned garbage, which is blowing down the street. The wind changes it and makes it into a thing of beauty, the debris of humanity, rubbish on any other day.

It ruffles through your hair.

And you try with some success not to think of fingers through your hair.

Because that will lead to thinking of fingers on your face and hands running down your back. And that will turn your thoughts back to kisses and touches and pale perfect skin and you don’t want to go there today.

So you move further along.

You stop at a corner and listen to someone playing guitar. Playing like they were pouring their heart into it. The way you haven’t heard someone play an instrument since…

And anyway it’s all right because they are playing something more modern, something you wouldn’t necessarily play on a violin.

So you stop to listen for a bit and it fills the empty space in your heart for the first time in forever and it swells through you and perhaps, just perhaps there is some healing.

Perhaps.

You turn and you leave and you realize what a stunningly, gorgeous day it is. What a soul-filling, spirit lifting, beautiful day. And there’s a taste and a promise of something hidden that might just make it okay to believe in living again.

You have had nights of endless rage and fury.

And days of bottomless grief.

And you realize that even though life has been crap and awful and you thought you’d never climb out of that black, aching hole and even though you have been gut-wrenchingly lonely and worn-out and sad, it’s going to be okay.

You have been tired, so bloody, god-awful tired, that today, for the first time in a long time there might actually be an end to the hurt and the fear and the desolation.

Maybe not always.

And maybe not everyday, but today it’s there, just at the tips of your fingers.

Today on this beautiful, ordinary day.

 

 


End file.
